


it's the most annoying time of the year

by CapnWinghead



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas Party, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28304832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnWinghead/pseuds/CapnWinghead
Summary: Bucky fucking hates Christmas. Unfortunately, Sam isn't aware of that.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 99





	it's the most annoying time of the year

**Author's Note:**

> Transferred from tumblr. 
> 
> Hope you all like it!

It’s the most annoying time of the year.

Walking the streets of New York, Bucky Barnes tries his best to ignore the millions and millions of shining and shimmering decorations lining the block. Miles and miles of bright scarlet ribbon and plush garland wrapped around the lamp posts. The bright and festive storefront displays. The overly cheerful music he tries his damndest to tune out.

He’s one block from his apartment when he’s nearly run over by a reindeer. One of the millions of Santa impersonators in a sleigh led by horses with antler headbands on.

Bucky fucking hates Christmas.

At some point, he must’ve enjoyed it as a kid. But, as the years went on, it just became a disappointment.

After losing his mother, his sister, and later his father, Christ became just a reminder of everything he’d lost. The years spent without a tree, without any presents, without any sign anyone had thought about him. Then, there’d been Steve and, while they hadn’t had any funds to spare, they made gifts for each other as best they could. Then the draft came down, then the ice, and with it, the last good memories Bucky had of this cursed holiday.

If he could just forget the whole thing this year, he’d be more than happy.

The stairs creak beneath his feet as he climbs to the third floor. Everything creaks in this place; it’s part of its charm. New York still hadn’t quite sorted out its housing crisis after the Snap and beggars shouldn’t’ be choosers. Sam and he were lucky Clint owned the building and that there was a unit to spare.

Shaking snow out of his hair, he’s pulling off his beanie as he opens the door. “Sam, please tell me you have the heat set to hell. I’m freezing my… ass off,” he finishes awkwardly, his voice drowned out completely by the loud music blaring.

Logically, they couldn’t fit more than thirty or so people in their shoebox apartment. To Bucky, it looked like hundreds had jammed their way inside. Several people huddled in their kitchen, chatting in the hallway, scattered throughout the living room where the couch had been moved. There’s a Christmas tree towering in the corner, twinkling lights flickering around it and overhead lights lining the walls. Some annoying pop starlet was belting out one of the annoyingly repetitive Christmas carols on the speakers, blending in with the chatter and creating one continuous wall of sound.

Bucky stands in the doorway as he stares at all of it in horror.

“Bucky! Hey, man, you’re finally here!” Scott cheers, dancing towards him in an ugly Christmas sweater. “Sam’s been looking for you. Started to look a little worried there.”

“That’s just his face,” a voice chimed in. Bucky looked over to find Peter standing next to him, a girl behind him. They were both wearing “Chrismukkah” sweaters and holding red plastic cups. At Bucky’s frown, Peter holds his up. “Just eggnog. Like Captain Dad would let me get anything else.”

“I don’t want May Parker on my ass for letting you get drunk at a party,” Sam chimes in, appearing from the crowd with a grin on his face. He’s dressed in a deep red sweater, a matching Santa hat on his head. As he neared, his smile only widened, eyes finding Bucky’s in seconds. “You’re here,” he says warmly. 

Bucky swallows, nodding as there’s a loud cheer somewhere in the back of the apartment. He had no idea it was even possible to fit this many people inside. He’s surprised there’s enough oxygen for everyone inside.

“What is all of this?” he rasps, returning to Sam.

Sam’s brow raises. “Oh, well, I thought it’d be nice to hang out with the team and do something fun since the only time we see each other, it’s life and death situations. So, I thought this was as good an excuse as any. And you said it’d been a long time since you’d really had a Christmas. I wanted it to be special for you...” He trials off, scanning Bucky’s face and his smile falls. “And you hate it.”

Bucky blinks, his insides twisting. Sam has that look in his eye again; the one that always cropped up when he felt like he’d stumbled over one of Bucky’s issues. Made more depressing by the fact that there are so damn many of them. Like when spring cleaning led to an upset when Bucky’s arsenal had been moved, even temporarily. When Sam hadn’t realized Bucky left lights on in the hallway overnight for peace of mind. Little things Sam had done without intending any harm, but here they were yet again dealing with one of Bucky’s issues.

“No, I don’t…” he licks his lips, trying to keep his voice steady. “I don’t hate it.” Sam stares at him, his brow furrowed concernedly. “It’s fine, really. Go have fun.”

Sam cocks his head to the side, eyes softening. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked first. I’ll tell everyone to go. We’ll move it to Scott’s place or something. It’s not a big deal.”

“Sam, honestly, I’m okay.” He searches for something to say, something that’ll wipe that concerned look off of Sam’s face. “Or, I will be as soon as you change the music to something tolerable.”

Sam’s mouth quirks a bit, “You’re sure?”

Bucky nods, waving Sam off. “Go, I’m serious about the music.” Sam studies him for a moment longer before smiling tentatively and disappearing into the crowd.

Bucky hangs his jacket on a wall hook and heads into the kitchen. He manages to grab a beer before he scopes out a quiet corner in the apartment.

“How’s it going, Mr. Scrooge?” Startled, Bucky turns to find Carol Danvers leaning against the wall next to him. She’s wearing a Chewbacca Christmas sweater, a beer in hand. “Not a fan of the holidays?”

Bucky shakes his head, staring down at his bottle. “Not really.”

“Me neither,” she replies. Staring out into the crowd, the corner of her mouth turns up. Bucky follows her gaze to see Maria Rambeau surrounded by a group of adoring SHIELD agents. “But Maria and Monica love them, and I love  _ them _ , so here I am.”

Bucky nods, following her gaze as Monica and Wanda spin each other around in circles. Nearby, Sam’s dancing with Jennifer Walters, a rather hilarious sight considering she’s nearly seven feet tall. Sam can’t even come close to reaching his arm over her head but he tries his best, laughing when they get tangled up in the process. Bucky bites down a smile, returning to his beer.

Anyone else, Bucky would’ve thought the party an oversight. But he knew Sam. For Christ’s sake, Sam had consulted him before buying a new bath mat, hesitant to even change the brand of soap they used without checking in. Seeing him now, the light in his eyes as yet another version of Jingle Bell Rock played over the speakers, one thing became clear: Sam freaking loves Christmas. This party had been him trying to share that with Bucky.

And no matter how much Bucky hates Christmas, he’ll put on a brave face for Sam. He can tough out anything for Sam.

He takes a long sip of his beer, lost in thought. “You ever wonder if you’ll ever really be a part of their lives?” he asks, the question slipping out before he can quiet it.

“How d’you mean?” There’s no judgment in her voice.

“I feel like I have all these gaps.” He shrugs, chewing on his lip for a moment as he looks at her. “All these little things trip me up sometimes. Things normal people are good at, but I’m not.”

“Define normal,” Carol says with a laugh and it is pretty funny considering their lives. “You and I… we’re rebuilding. There are whole pieces of my life I can’t remember and I’ll probably never get them back. But I have a family here. It’s strange and some days we go out and save the world together. That’s pretty damn great considering.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, smiling absently. “Sam said something like that to me once.” He takes another sip of his beer, explaining, “He said I get to decide who I am now. I’m just worried I’ll choose wrong.”

“I’m not too worried about that,” she says with a knowing gleam in her eye. “Neither is Sam. I think you’re doing pretty well so far.”

“I just follow Sam’s lead.”

“We’re in trouble if he ever goes dark side,” she replies with a teasing grin.

“Oh, definitely.” His eyes find Sam effortlessly, his smile widening. “I’m in it for the long haul.”

He watches as Jen dips Sam with a laugh. Peter tries to do the same with MJ and nearly knocks the Christmas tree into the fireplace. Carol laughs out loud, moving into the fray as Peter and Scott leap into action trying to save it.

When the party’s over and the guests have all left, Bucky helps Sam pick up around the apartment. Surprisingly, there’s not much to be done.

“Best thing about inviting superheroes and SHIELD agents to your party,” Sam muses, pulling his hat off. “They pick up after themselves.”

“What’s your excuse?” Bucky asks, laughing when Sam tosses his hat at him. “I’m just saying, I think this place is cleaner than it was before the party.”

Sam glares at him lightly as he slumps down on the couch, grabbing the hot cocoa on the side table. There’s music playing softly, just loud enough to be heard over the crackling fireplace. The tree had thankfully survived Peter’s dance moves. It’s a little crooked from where the kid squeezed too hard trying to salvage it.

Bucky grabs his own mug of hot chocolate and sits down next to Sam on the couch, staring out at the empty apartment. Now that they’re alone, he supposes, “The decorations aren’t too bad.” Sam hums in question as Bucky looks at him. “You did a good job.”

“Really?” Sam asks skeptically.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, mustering up some honest enthusiasm. “It looks good.”

Sam shakes his head with a smile. “You hate it.”

“I don’t hate it. It’s just…” He chooses his words carefully. “Christmas is kind of a sore spot for me. Not all of us had family dinners and trees with tons of presents under it. I don’t even think I ever believed in Santa.”

“You should definitely start. Apparently, Luke and Danny fought his brother not too long ago.” Bucky stares at him as Sam sips his cocoa before adding, “Not joking.”

“Okay,” Bucky says slowly, still processing. He shakes himself a bit. “It’s just that Christmas will probably never mean for me what it means for you.”

Sam takes in his face, his eyes softening. He sets his mug down on the floor, turning to face Bucky on the couch as he takes his hands. “Buck, Christmas is about family. It’s about spending time with the people you care about.” He rubs a hand over his head, his mouth twisting. “And I think I forgot that tonight.”

“What d’you mean?”

Sam stares at him, the corner of his mouth turning up. “You’re my family,” he says softly, the words sending a rush of warmth through Bucky’s chest. “I should’ve asked if you wanted a big party. I’m sorry.”

Swallowing, Bucky says, “Sam, I don’t want to be the reason you miss out on things you love.” Bucky takes in the yards of garland and ribbon draped along the walls. “And you really love this whole Christmas thing,” he muses with a smile.

“I do,” Sam says, drawing Bucky’s gaze. Sam’s eyes are bright as he takes in the twinkling lights and tree overladen with ornaments. When they return to Bucky, they’re just as fond, if not more. Bucky’s breath catches as Sam adds, “But there are some things I love more.”

The firelight casts a warm glow across his face, leaving Bucky frozen in place as Sam leans in, his eyes falling closed. Their lips meet in a soft press, a mix of surprise and joy leaving Bucky a few seconds behind. Catching up as his hands come up, cradling Sam’s face and holding him there as he deepens the kiss. He can feel Sam smile, laughing softly when he pulls back and is quickly drawn into another kiss.

Pulling away, Bucky has the pleasure of watching Sam’s eyes slowly open, softening as they take in Bucky’s face once more. Gathering Bucky’s hands in his own, he studies them for a moment. “I’m still learning things about you. And I feel like I just keep screwing up,” he says, eying Bucky through his lashes.

“You’re not. I’m just…”  _ Screwed up, strange, weird -  _ every word sounds wrong in his head. “Different. A lot of this stuff brings up bad memories.” He pressed a kiss to Sam’s palm, holding his gaze as he added, “You’re helping me make better ones.”

A smile spreads across Sam’s face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. It takes Bucky’s breath away as Sam leans up, kissing his forehead softly before reaching for his mug. Nudging at Bucky’s chin, he noses into his throat as he pushes Bucky back into the couch, lying against his chest.

“You could use your words, you know,” Bucky murmurs with amusement. He grabs his mug, stretching his legs out on either side of Sam.

Sam hums, settling further into him. “I know,” he says, a smile in his voice.


End file.
